


Goats, Wines and Mates

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Goats, Homophobia, M/M, The Steter Network Monthly Prompts, is that a tag?, proposal, wineries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: Stiles usually likes going to wineries with Peter. And he's usually okay entertaining Peter's clients. Usually.Oh and there's goats.





	Goats, Wines and Mates

It’s usually not any kind of big deal, usually it’s fun.

He likes going to wineries with Peter. Peter knows a ton more than Stiles, but that’s okay. He knows Stiles likes light white wines that are kind of sweet and he does not like oak. For reds, he likes them dark and jammy, almost sweet. He likes a cold dessert wine or a ruby port.

Above it all, he likes wine tasting with Peter. He likes to watch Peter talking with the wine makers, he likes the locations. Some are big estates, with tiled floors and high ceilings looking like they used to be the dining room of a castle. Some are almost industrial, steel tanks full of wine on the side and exposed pipes in the ceiling. Some tasting rooms look like they’re in someone’s home and Stiles is pretty sure that he’s actually been in someone’s garage tasting some very good wine.

And he likes it when he needs to go with Peter to lunch or dinner with one of his clients. Peter deals in rare items – books, antiquities, sometimes there’s plants, or paintings or jewelry. Basically, he deals in supernatural items that are hard to find. Hard for most people to find, that is. Peter manages to find them and Stiles has learned not to ask if things are totally legal. Hey, they’re supernatural things, legal is a concept for the regular people.

Stiles goes to dinner with someone who might want to but a necklace that Peter has (or soon will have) and it’s generally a good time. People recognize his relationship with Peter and they usually can recognize his spark, his something extra he brings to the table. Most people think he and Peter are good together, that they’re good for each other. And if they don’t, both Peter and Stiles aren’t afraid to offer a nice fuck you, thanks for coming.

 

This time, however, Stiles needs to say he is not having fun. Peter’s trying to buy a book from a couple from Florence, Italy. They’re closer in age to 70 than 60 and apparently they’re awfully Christian for couple selling a book that includes how to safely summon demons.

They take the couple to lunch at The French Laundry, and the Gallos both say lunch was fine. Fine. It’s Peter’s favorite restaurant and they might have had to pull a few strings to get a reservation – meaning Stiles used a bit of magic and suddenly their name was on a register. Mr. and Mrs. Gallo could have been impressed by the magic or the food or maybe not be such jack asses, but apparently this is Stiles’ Saturday. Good thing he loves his mate.

After lunch there’s wine tasting. The Gallos both said they like red wines, so Peter did some research to find the best ones in Napa. Not just good wines, but lovely wineries, beautiful locations, with great tasting rooms. He called ahead and because they’ve been to the ones he picked already, he was able to make sure they’d be treated like VIPs.

The first one, the Gallos said was nice, the wine was fine, just a little over done, isn’t it? They tasted a bit and poured out as much as they drank. Now Stiles pours out tastings as well, but somehow when they do it, it looks insulting. Peter tips extra well.

At the second winery, they seem to drink a bit more and Peter suggests they get a bottle of their favorite and maybe sit outside and relax a bit. There’s no rush after all, their return to Italy isn’t for a few days yet. The weather is lovely, California in the fall and he picked this particular winery because the patio is lovely, with its soft shade and flowers everywhere.

Nope. Gemma, Mrs. Gallo, says it’s chilly here and maybe they should go someplace else.

Okay, the third winery is Peter’s absolute favorite, not on the original agenda, but Peter’s about done, obvious because of the way his eyes flash at Stiles while they’re “washing their hands” in the rest room. Meaning Peter’s throwing cold water on his face and Stiles cuddles him, trying to get the blue from his eyes.

It’s probably Peter’s favorite winery because it’s Stiles’ favorite. The wines are tasty and not too pretentious and goddamn it, they have animals outside. They raise sheep and goats to sell their milk to make delicious cheeses that Peter adores and Stiles thinks are just a bit too funky. Not so funky that he won’t kiss Peter after he eats them, but Stiles doesn’t think they’re necessary on a cheese plate.

The winery is lovely, small and family-operated and dammit, the Gallos actually seem to like it. Stiles isn’t sure if that’s good because, you know, it would be good. Or maybe it’s bad, because he has a feeling Peter came here trying to piss them off. Peter’s in business because he likes winning; the money isn’t that big of a deal, but having others know that if you want something no one else can get, go to Peter Hale is what he likes.

Inside, they’re greeted warmly, like they always are. The winemaker is there and soon, the foursome is outside, under cover of an umbrella with a heat lamp on to make sure Gemma doesn’t get too chilly. Other people may be in tank tops, but Peter and Stiles will sweat attractively under a heat lamp.

“Robert will bring us our tastings as we’re ready,” Peter says, confidently, nodding at his company who actually look mildly happy for once. Or at least they’re not frowning, which is a big step up. “And of course, if you like anything, we can certainly get a bottle, get some snacks or whatever. No rush.”

“I’m going to go check the goats,” Stiles says, standing up and tossing back his first taste. Light, not too dry. Not horrible, but not as good as a margarita, although he won’t say that right now. “See if they still remember me.”

“Have fun, love, no hurry. I’ll be sure to save the Moscato for you,” Peter calls over his shoulder, watching Stiles walk towards the pens where they keep the animals.

“You and the boy, have been together for a while now?” Petronius asks, watching Peter watching Stiles.

“Yes.” Peter turns back, confident Stiles will be fine; they’ve been here several times and Stiles has no problem going into the pens and letting the animals walk all over him. Not exactly stink free, but honestly, better animal than chemicals in Peter’s opinion. “We met, I’m afraid to say, when he was only 16. Of course, nothing happened between us until he was in college.” He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder, half listening to Stiles chastise the goats when they step on each other to be the first to chew on his fingers. “I’d say officially we’ve been together for, hmm, five years? And he’ll be finished with his emissary training next year. At that point, I think he’ll accept the position in Derek’s pack. Formally accept it.”

“And that’s appropriate?” Gemma asks, sipping on her wine. She does actually smile, so maybe she likes it, Peter isn’t sure.

Wine tasting with humans is always interesting. He’s able to taste the wine, and actually more than what’s presented for humans. With werewolf tasting and smell, he gets more of it, the type of soil the grapes grow in and the storage of the wine is something he’s sensitive to. Of course, he doesn’t get the buzz off it humans do. “Is it appropriate to wait until he’s fully trained? He’s able to do a lot for the pack now, of course; his graduation is a formality, really. I guess it’ll be an occasion for another party. Long way to say, yes, it’s acceptable and appropriate when he’s finished his training.”

The Gallos share a look, eyebrow raised and Peter waits to see what’s next. He can still hear Stiles in the animal pen, chastising a lamb who won’t stop nipping on his shirt sleeve.

Petronius finishes his glass, setting it down on the marble table. “There’s no concern that you are both – homosexual? That doesn’t cause a problem with your alpha, that your mate won’t have children for the pack?”

It’s not his words that say what he’s thinking, quite honestly, Peter’s used to that. The idea that a mated pair are more valuable when they can bring children, or increase the size of the pack, that’s something that Peter’s heard before. It’s his scent that hits Peter, stronger than the wine, the other people there or the scent of the animals across the yard. Disapproval, distaste, judgement.

Fuck the book, he’ll figure something out later.

“No, there’s no concern from Derek. He’s also known Stiles since he was in high school and he approves. His left hand and his emissary – it’s a good pair, security wise,” Peter lets his eyes flash, fangs dropping, and the ‘civilians’ around them be damned. “Do you think there’d be a concern?” he asks, as though he cares.

“Concern?” Gemma says, sniffing at the last of her wine before she puts the glass on the table. “No, I’m sure it’s not a concern to your pack. You are, what – the damned, yes? A werewolf is damned and then you’re finocchio? Faggot, you say here?” She shrugs and looks at her husband. “The damned.”

 

Peter isn’t quite sure of what happens in the next couple of minutes. It’s probably one of those times that Stiles talks about, when his temper gets so high that his brain turns off. He checks quickly and there’s no blood shed, and no one is staring, but Stiles is next to him, tucked under his arm, heart beat steady, his nose just behind Peter’s ear. Calming. Peter turns to Stiles and takes a breath before he sees Jason, the wine maker is at their table, pouring everyone a generous taste of a chilled, white port.

“I see the goats still remember you, Stiles.” Jason puts down a tray of nuts and dried fruits, scooping up the last round of glasses. “I swear Daisy pines for a week after you leave. You’re great with animals.”

“We have a connection,” Stiles answers, popping some nuts into his mouth. “Man, I love this stuff, thanks, Jason!” He takes a sip and sighs contentedly as he leans into Peter’s side. “Do we need another bottle, wolf?”

“We always need another bottle, darling.” Peter smiles at Jason and has what is either a wonderful or horrible idea. Time will tell. “Jason, Stiles and I would like to have our wedding reception here. Is that something we could arrange?”

Jason, bless his pony-tailed little heart, smiles like it’s the best news in years. “That’s terrific! Look, I’ll let Jennie know and she’ll be sure you have her number and email and you can work it out.” He tops off Stiles’ glass and says, “Man, I couldn’t be happier for you two!”

“We’re happy, too,” Stiles says, clicking his glass against Peter’s. The Gallos are whispering something to each other in Italian. Peter knows Italian, of course, so Stiles will ask him about it later. He’ll obviously need to ask Peter a lot of things later. “So hey, can Daisy be in the wedding? Like maybe she’ll let me walk her down the aisle?” He turns to Peter and asks, “Reception here? Ceremony here, too? Keeps people from drunk driving around.”

“Wonderful.” Peter kisses his temple, sipping his port. Not to his tastes, Stiles knows, and Stiles will probably finish it in a minute. “I’ll ask Jennie about that, too. Wedding and reception both.”

 

The Gallos take a taxi back to their hotel, taking their book with them. Peter’ll need to eat a little crow that he can’t supply the book he already promised, but oh well. It’s not like they’re hurting for money.

Jennie is delighted with the idea of having their wedding there, assuring them both there’s room for a hundred if needed, offering to coordinate catering, hotels and whatever they need.

 

And that night, after a light dinner, heavy sex and a relaxing shower, they’re wrapped around each other in bed. Stiles looks at the gold band, studded with sparkling stones, new on his left hand. “Jennie’s expecting to host a wedding, you know. They’ll be disappointed if we don’t.”

“That’s good for you? Not too much?” He snuggles into Stiles’ neck, mouthing at the warm, bruised flesh there. “I did kind of spring it on you. No blood though, I hope you’re proud of me.”

Stiles snorts, turning his head so Peter has easier access. “Of course. And I found the ring when you brought it home. The gems, I don’t know, they make my magic twinge. So you didn’t _quite_ catch me by surprise, wolf.”

“And you want to?” Peter asks, pulling back to look at Stiles’ face, to study his eyes. “You want to marry me?”

“Only if you promise to love me forever. And if Daisy can wear a flower crown.”

“Absolutely, my moon.” Peter kisses him once and then again. “Absolutely to both of those.”

 


End file.
